Charming Princes

I've been wanting to make this video since 2023 AND I FINALLY DID IT LOL

Gonna upload the illustrations later .w.

.     “I should not be surprised that a human is quick to minimize my true identity,” He snaps. “It seems so typical of your kind to be unstartled by atrocities. If I were to tell you I raped and sodomized thousands I am sure you would not even blink.”

.     Solas doesn’t look when he hears the slab of wood creak, indicating Cain’s departure. He grimaces down at his hands, before resolving to take the clay jar of barley from its slot in the sod wall and pour grains into two misshapen ceramic bowls. He takes the kettle of broth from the fire and pours the boiling fluid into them, adding spoons of butter and several slivers of smoked eel to each, before setting them aside.

.     He peels his dirtied silk nightshirt off his body and sets it in a basket beside his bed with the rest of the washing. Fortunately it’s warm enough in the sod house to go without a shirt tonight.

.     Solas sets his weary body down again on his bed and picks up the pipe by the fire, finding that craving returning in Cain’s absence. The herbal fumes calm him, even when his unreliable heart jumps at hearing the hard thud of bodies hitting ground outside. He bites the mouthpiece and lays with his weight resting on one arm, still facing the open door. The visage of Charley is a welcome one, and Pride smiles warmly around his pipe.

“You act as if you want me to scream and throw things, Solas.” Cain speaks, straightening up as his brother’s freed ands vanish under his travel worn cloak. “I thought you would have known better than to expect my disappointment to manifest in physical actions.”

Solas’ lean form had caught Cain’s eye almost immediately upon their entrance, it was through his strict ideas of control that he kept his gaze and focus on Charles. The boy still did not take his eyes off the elf, even has he dipped his head for Cain to release the straps that kept the mask in place. The outer shell was polished leather, decorated with etchings of flowers, but Cain had enough kindness in him to ensure the interior was soft and would not rub. 

“Would you rather I reduce myself to such base actions for your pleasure?” He questions, tugging his brother’s ratty cloak away with a look. He neatens everything into another tidy parcel, a man of habit. Cain sets it aside as he finally turns to regard the man, feeling a familiar tug in the pit of his stomach all the same. He doesn’t allow his attention to wander, no matter how tempting the subject may be. His body aches from the day and the tumble out of the barn, it helps keep his focus as it should. 

“Strike you, perhaps? Act without reason as Charles does? Do not mistake my weariness for a lack of condemnation. What I lack is fear. If it is fear that you expected, I apologize for the disappointment.” Cain finishes and Charley leaves the seat where he was put, no doubt drawn by the smell and promise of warm food. His clothes are too large for him, a fact more apparent now without his cloak, his feet bare. Cain notes with disapproval there’s still bits of straw stuck to him, and stains of mud. Vexing was surely the kindest thing he could say about Charles and his states, watching the boy with a hawk’s eye as he gathers his bowl and sits on the floor near the fire, folding his lean, coltish legs under him. 

.     “They are afraid of snakes,” Says he, after his long pause for thought. “I am sure you could secure plastic fakes in Badtown if you ask the right person. Simply scatter them around your yard, and that should be sufficient to frighten the animals away.”

“Fine, I will nail plastic snakes around my yard.” He sighs, keeping an eye on the tiny primate. “Those little ones are rampant thieves, you know. The slightly bigger ones are meaner but the little ones will run off with almost anything.”

‘Anything’ being his hammers, nails, small knives, and his entire quiver of arrows on one occassion. Food was the most popular among the monkeys, they liked to wait until his back was turned to upset baskets of fruit and snatch handfuls of berries, running off in a screeching chaos that ended in broken dishes and creative swears. 

.     The revelation of Cain’s illicit relationship with Dorian does give Pride some initial pause. Were he any sort of moral he might be deterred by the presence of another person in the other man’s life, instead it only stokes the fire in his body. He is far superior to any human lover, and clearly the Tevinter mage wasn’t captivating enough to keep Cain’s interest.  Solas preens, his chin held slightly upward, shoulders squared, the picture of his namesake.

.     “I have lain with both sexes,” He answers. That’s all he’ll divulge on the matter– his hedonistic proclivities in the past were an unsavory topic of discussion, regardless of the heated mood. Some were men and some were women, some were entirely undefined, but he had experience in droves.

.     The brush of Cain’s lips on Solas’ knuckles causes his ears to twitch, and his pupils to dilate. He turns his hand in the Templar’s and grips it firmly, before guiding it downward. Solas plants Cain’s hand on the front of his tight trousers, right on the swelling of his crotch where it strained against the ratty fabric but was hidden by the flare in his tunic.

Words that would only before pass deep in his thoughts now loosened by wine, Cain finds himself molding his fingers to Solas’ cock. The heat of it, the size. A rough thrill blooms in the pit of his stomach, making his skin prickle in anticipation. He had not expected such a lithe man to be so endowed, but it caused no hestitation as he shifted from his seat. 

To kneel was a sacred act, one of reverence. Cain kneels now between the casual sprawl of Solas’ long legs. He allows the palm of his hand, tightened by the light grip of his fingers, to slide up the elf’s length. He finds the laced closure of the thin trousers and pulls the string tails away to open him to the air of the night. 

It’s Solas’ strange eyes that enrapture him as he grips the hot, hard flesh of the man. Sword roughened fingers finesse him, pulling away the foreskin to slide the pad of his thumb over the slit, rubbing a glistening pearl of precum over the sensitive skin. He slips his hand down, cupping the base of Solas’ cock, finding the soft touch of the hair there strangely erotic. The scent of him in his nose, clean musk and sweet oil, does nothing but make him throb in his trousers. 

Lashes fall over lust-bright eyes, for the briefest moment taking in the man’s cock - it’s size and shape, the reddish hue of his pubic hair. His tongue comes first, wetting the underside of the head before he closes his lips around it. This is a first for him, but he was not inattentive during Dorian’s minstrations. His sweeps his tongue along the the glands, slowly bobbing as he finds his rhythm. Cain finds his hands are not without use either, stroking along the base of Solas as he dares to take more of him in his mouth, emboldened by wine and struck dumb by lust. He finds the man’s balls with the other, cupping and fondling.